


Have Breakfast First

by Emby_M



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Childhood friends Paolo and Kirin, Kirin Might Be a Genius But He's Terrible At Feelings, M/M, Morning After, Non-Graphic Smut, domestic-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 20:47:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9624749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emby_M/pseuds/Emby_M
Summary: Paolo wakes to find his bed is empty.





	

Paolo wakes to find his bed is empty.

He stretches and pulls on pants, shoving his feet into his house shoes and not bothering to put on a shirt. It’s his private apartment anyway, so, yknow, who cares.

He yawns and shuffles out to his kitchen, where he finds an already dressed and wild-eyed Kirin. He looks like he caught him robbing his house or stealing his underwear. Embarrassed, ashamed, and ready to bolt.

“Mornin’,” he says, scratching his stomach, “Leaving without breakfast?”

Kirin’s jaw tightens and he nods.

Paolo nods and hums, “Stay, stay. Just for a meal.”

And Kirin is still wild-eyed and silent, but he moves to the kitchen table, decorated with some gerbera and a bowl of fruit.

“If you’re hungry you can have an apple. I think they’re the only things that are ripe right now.”

Kirin pulls an apple from the bowl and sets it in front of him but doesn’t eat it, just stares.

Paolo shrugs and turns back, pulling stuff out, getting the stove going.

Well it’s not the weirdest thing ever that Kirin isn’t talking, Paolo thinks, we did have sex last night.

And it was good sex, too, he thinks further, remembering a very undone, ecstatic Kirin under him.

He makes eggs and toast for Kirin. He has a little bit of bacon fat left over from a batch he’d made so he cooks the eggs in it and smears the bread with it before slipping it into a miniature oven a teenage Kirin made for him and has been going strong since.

God. Kirin during sex is. Alluring.

His slim body was lithe and limber and flexible, and when Paolo gripped him, he melted into his touch, eager to please.

“Over medium, right?” Paolo says, turning back.

Kirin is still silent at the table. The apple is untouched.

“‘Kay,” he says, turning back. Never had such a silent breakfast guest before.

Kirin was drunk last night, so maybe that was part of it. They both were — tipsy enough that Paolo took his shirt off and displayed the astrolabe of his back, and then Kirin kissed his shoulder so sweetly that Paolo had to kiss him and then - and then -

Well it was good. It was so very good.

And Kirin came apart at the seams, screaming Paolo’s name, whimpering and keening and kissing like it was his last fuck and -

Well, good. And Paolo had to admit that whatever he’d been feeling these past few months was more than just the pity he’d felt for Kirin as a kid, more than just supporting a lonely child; now that Kirin was an adult he had this certain radiance to him and, well.

It was up to Kirin to decide if things went any further. He’d have no complaints either way, really. But Paolo knows how he, personally, feels.

The oven sings right as the whites are firm and the yolk is cooked through. He carefully arranges them on a plate, and sets it in front of Kirin, kissing the top of his head.

“Love you. I’m gonna go get dressed.”

He goes back into his bedroom and takes his time getting dressed. He does some stretches as he does, limbering up for the day. His clothes feel like the fit better, scented with the smell of Kirin.

When he comes back out, Kirin is still sat there, totally shifty and without having touched his food.

“You okay-“

“ _Doyouwanttobeathing_ ,” Kirin blurts, in one breath.

Paolo laughs.

He's stuck laughing for several minutes, with Kirin's ego bruising more and more with each brief "ha".

“What, asshole! It took a lot-“

“You fucker,” Paolo laughs, grin too big, “you absolutely clumsy fucker.”

Kirin gets up from the table huffily, shoving it slightly, and goes to grab his coat.

“Yeah of course I do, flaco,” Paolo says, leaning against his kitchen counter, “The sex is great and I like you, so.”

Kirin pauses in his huff and turns around.

“I might regret this tomorrow, so don’t -“ Kirin swallows, ”don’t make me.”

The finger he points tries to be intimidating but manages to be sort of adorable instead.

“Cross my heart.”

“If you make out with me the probability of me regretting it might go down.”

Paolo laughs. “Love to, but I’m busy and so are you. But I can pencil you in for tonight.”

Kirin pouts, but extends his hand. “Deal. Meet you here tonight.”

“Eat your breakfast first. I made those damn eggs with love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Flaco is an affectionate descriptor for someone who's skinny in Spanish.  
> Kirin is so bad at feelings, jesus christ. He's been crushing on Paolo since they were like, 16. It's embarrassing.   
> Please leave kudos and comments, if you're so inclined!


End file.
